


ice, ice, baby

by exarite



Series: Alternate Universe Challenge [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Drabble Collection, M/M, Olympics, POV Outsider, Social Media, Viktor plays hockey but Yuuri still figureskates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-03-03 00:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13329939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/pseuds/exarite
Summary: "Funnily enough, one of the steamiest romances this year actually come from two players who spend their time on the ice!For the number 1 cutest couple this month, Viktor Nikiforov, Hockey's Living Legend, and Katsuki Yuuri, Figure Skating's Darling!"





	1. oh my god is that viktor nikiforov?

**Author's Note:**

> part of my AU challenge. H for hockey!

"Oh my god, is that Viktor Nikiforov?” he hissed. His boyfriend looked up from his phone and languidly raised a perfect eyebrow.

“Sorry, who’s that?”

Peter gave him an offended look, his own eyebrows pulled together and his lips thin. “Viktor Nikiforov!” he warbled, voice strangled. How could Jeremy not know who Viktor Nikiforov was! What an embarrassment.

He sniffed, and crossed his arms as he tried to peer over his menu once more just to check if it was really Viktor Nikiforov two tables down, eating with another (admittedly cute) guy.

“He’s the first out hockey player,” he lectured, “He played in the NHL for awhile and the KHL, and as far as I know, he’s in the Russian team for the Olympics too. He has this lovely ESPN spread that I can show you later, and his You Can Play videos are the cutest thing ever.”

Jeremy hummed, and Peter glanced back at him. Jeremy had his elbow on the table, hand propping up his chin as he observed Peter in amusement. “Keep talking hockey shit I can’t understand,” Jeremy teased, a mischievous tilt to his eyes.

Peter huffed and glared at him slightly, but Jeremy only laughed.

“Go with me, please,” Petter begged, reaching out to touch Jeremy’s hand. “You know how much I hate talking to people.”

“You hate people in general,” Jeremy corrected easily, even as he stood up. Peter followed him eagerly, forcing himself to refrain from shaking in excitement.

Jeremy strolled towards the maybe Viktor Nikiforov, hands in his pockets and in his usual slouch. Peter held his breath just as Viktor Nikiforov looked up—and wow he was even hotter in real life.

“Sorry, are you Viktor Nikiforov?”

Viktor Nikiforov beamed and put down his utensils. “Yes, yes I am.”

“Can he have a picture with you?” Jeremy asked, shifting his weight to one side and jabbing a thumb in Peter’s direction.

Viktor Nikiforov looked at his companion, sharing a look with him before he looked back up at the two of them. “Do you want a picture with Yuuri too?’

Peter blinked, faltering slightly in the middle of taking out his phone from his pocket. He glanced at the unassuming man, Yuuri, who Viktor had been eating with. It would be rude to say no….

“Sure,” he said hesitantly, a little awkwardly, as he fidgeted with his phone. He had no idea who he was.

Viktor beamed.

*

Peter thinks little of the time he had met Viktor Nikiforov. He did eventually show Jeremy Viktor’s ESPN spread and his You Can Play videos, and he did post his photo with Viktor and…the other guy on his Instagram, but that was it.

Of course now he’s thinking of Viktor Nikiforov, merely for the fact that the Winter Olympics was currently on TV. Hockey finals would be the next day, and for now, it was the figure skating competition.

Peter scrolled through his phone, checking up on the bets that he and his friends had placed on the outcome of the hockey finals. He wasn’t quite paying attention to the screen anymore, although he did know it was the men’s figure skating right now.

“Hey, didn’t you take a pic with that guy?” Jeremy asked idly and Peter looked up. He squinted at the screen.

“Who?”

Jeremy pointed at the figure skater in the very center of the rink, about to start his performance. “Him. Yuuri Katsuki from Japan.”

Peter tilted his head. He did look slightly familiar. “Picture when? Where?”

“With that hockey player you were talking about, the cute one who kinda looks like Anton,” Jeremy said easily. He lifted his feet to prop them on the coffee table and Peter glared, slapping at his knee slightly. Jeremy grunted and dropped his feet back down on the rug where they belonged.

“Viktor Nikiforov?” he asked, and went to the pictures on his phone.

The music started, and reflexively, Peter looked up. He froze, his eyes wide as Katsuki moved.

He couldn’t look away.

His jaw dropped and his phone lay abandoned by his side. He didn’t even notice when Jeremy picked up his phone to scroll through the pictures.

Holy fuck, he was _beautiful_.

Entranced, his eyes only left the screen when Katsuki’s performance finally came to a close. He leaned back into the couch. Wow. Maybe he should get into figure skating.

“Here,” Jeremy said, handing him his phone. Peter looked down, and again, his eyes widened at the picture of him in between Viktor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri. Katsuki looked different in the picture, much softer, although still handsome. There was a shy smile on his face, so different from the confident persona of earlier.

He looked up at the screen, just in time for them to declare Katsuki as the gold medallist.

Only moments later, there’s another body throwing himself at Katsuki and pressing his lips to his and Peter gapes. The man pulls away and—

Oh my god, is that Viktor Nikiforov?


	2. ew, figure skater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally going to be my zine submission but i wasnt v happy w it so!! believe me when i say my new zine submission is so much better

“ _ Figure skater _ ,” Yuri grunted, his eyes narrowed as he peered at the figure in the center of their supposedly reserved rink.  He rolled his eyes and dropped his hockey bag on the bench, stalking towards the rink. “I’m going to tell him to piss off.”

“Don’t.” Viktor’s voice cut through, and it stopped Yuri in his tracks as well as a hand on his arm could. He scowled and looked up at their captain, ready to bark out a response when he realized that Viktor wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes glued on the intruding figure skater.

Without another word, Viktor stalked towards the barrier between rink and audience, and leaned over, his voice ringing through the stadium. “Yuuri!” 

The man startled, looking up and hand raising to the ear buds in his ears as he skid to a stop (from an admittedly beautiful routine, but Yuri wasn’t going to say that). He squinted, tilting his head and confusion clear on his features. Yuri saw the exact moment that he realized just who was shouting--his lips spread into a brilliant smile, his eyes widened, and he raised an arm to wave.

“Viktor!” Yuuri skated towards Viktor, movements smooth and easy, right into Viktor’s open arms. He was dwarfed by the sheer size of Viktor’s hockey uniform, shoulder pads and bulky equipment emphasizing how much smaller the younger man was.

“What’s he doing, talking to some amateur figure skater?” Yuri grumbled. Georgi choked, coughing loudly and Yuri looked up in annoyance (and alarm). “Hey!”

“Amateur figure skater,” Georgi repeated, an amused lilt to his tone as he adjusted the helmet to his other hip. “Sure.”

Yuri scowled and turned away, already stalking towards their captain. Someone had to remind him that they had to practice. The games were coming up and Yuri wanted to win. Before he could do anything though, the figure skater made his way to the exit of the rink, already putting on his skate guards.

Yuri rolled his eyes. Finally. 

*

Contrary to popular belief, Yuri actually did notice that Viktor was so much faster than he was before. The hockey legend should have already been perfect but somehow, he was speeding past the whole Russian team with considerably less effort than before. His skating itself was so much smoother. Yuri needed any edge he could get. Even if it meant he had to resort to… less savory methods. Such as training under a figure skater.

“I don’t know, Yura,” Viktor sang as he adjusted his elbow pads. “Yuuri’s pretty busy at this time too.”

What could he be busy with? And what could be more important than helping Yuri get better for the upcoming games? Yuri was representing Russia for the first time in his life and Yuri needed to perform well. He wouldn’t even be asking this if Viktor hadn’t sworn on Makkachin that figure skating training actually helped his speed.

“Please.” It was practically forced out of him, his teeth gritted. Viktor looked up in surprise. The two of them were silent. Finally, Viktor slowly nodded in acquiescence. 

“I’ll ask.”

*

Katsuki Yuuri was a  _ demon _ , Yuri decided.

Yuri panted, leaning over the barrier as he drank in greedy gulps of water. What the hell was that? He felt like he was about to die. This was somehow worse than regular hockey training. He glanced over at Katsuki who was barely sweating from their skating session, and instead skating that routine that Yuri had walked in on that first time. Viktor was watching him with literal stars in his eyes. Yuri rolled his eyes.

His pride was only beaten even more when he finally took off his skates later that day and found that he could barely walk. He stumbled, and Katsuki caught him, concern in his eyes. Yuri yanked his arm back and mumbled a barely audible thanks.

The only thing that made it worth it was when only a month later, at the end of practice, Georgi looked at him in surprise and begrudging respect.

“You’re probably faster than Viktor now,” Georgi stated as he tilted his head to observe Yuri. Yuri grinned, all teeth, vicious in pride. Yes, he was.

He didn’t want to admit that Katsuki was the reason why, but Yuri had to admit that the change in blades and the figure skating drills were actually really helpful. It was too easy now to slip past the others and it was disconcerting, but damn, Yuri felt high with pride. 

He was ready.

*

“Hey, is that…” Yuri mumbled, standing up slighting in his seat to get a better view.

“Representing Japan, Yuuri Katsuki!”

Yuri gaped. There, unassuming Katsuki skated out into the middle of the rink, his costume a handsome red that clung to his body. There was a stillness to his expression, a calm that had seemed to settle over him. 

The music started. Katsuki moved.

Yuri couldn’t do anything but watch in stunned silence as the other man performed, breathtaking jumps and beautiful spins as he danced over the ice with an easy grace that Yuri could only dream of emulating. Yuri  _ knew _ this routine, he had seen it a million times during the months that Katsuki had been helping him improve his speed and--He leaned back into his chair, eyes wide.

This whole time, he had been seeing a fellow Olympian practice their routine?

It said a lot that when Katsuki won gold, only a few hours later, Yuri was still more shocked at the fact that Katsuki was an Olympian in the first place.

(And when Viktor jumped Katsuki into a deep kiss, arms around the other man as they fell onto the ice and without care of the crowd erupting into cheers around them and the cameras zooming in? Yuri was barely even surprised.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again!! pls support the zine :-)


	3. elegance and power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> actual submission for yoichasinggoldzine

There was only more routine before it was Yuuri’s turn. Viktor didn’t need to ask whether or not he was nervous. They both knew he was.

 

Viktor straightened up. He could feel the people staring at them and he didn’t blame them. He was, after all, supporting someone from a different country. He knew that they would ask him about it and that he’d maybe even get flak for it, especially from those supporting the Russian representative, but for now? Viktor couldn’t quite find it within himself to care.

 

He glanced at Yuuri, quiet concern in his eyes as he placed a steadying hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, the material of his costume smooth against Viktor’s palm. Yuuri looked up, and for a moment, all Viktor could think was  _ wow. _

 

He was beautiful. Viktor had always thought so. From the very first time he had met him, from the day Viktor had unknowingly walked in on him running through his routine for the upcoming games in search of his own place to practice… Never had Viktor ever thought that he’d chance upon someone so amazing, so graceful, so elegant, and so perfect.

 

It was refreshing.

 

As deeply entrenched in the hockey world as he was, there were very few opportunities for him to actually experience and appreciate beauty. Everyone, including him, was a little rough around the edges, a little too prone to violence—which was understandable given the checking and the tendency for players to start fighting mid game, something Viktor was sure that Yuuri never had to worry about. Who could blame him for trying to get as much of Yuuri’s time as possible?

 

The very first time he had seen Yuuri dancing through the ice with his effortless grace, spinning and skating with an ease that even Viktor was jealous of, he had immediately dropped his ill preconceived notions of troublesome figure skaters faster than even Yuri dropping gloves against that John Jake from Canada.

 

He had tried to play it cool then, aware of his reputation in the hockey world as the literal Ice King, on and off the ice. He had tried to approach Yuuri, but the moment he had made his presence clear in the skating rink, Yuuri had immediately withdrawn and closed off. No longer was he the ethereal, effortlessly beautiful figure skater, but instead someone who could have passed by Viktor without a second glance on his end. How much of a loss it would have been if Viktor had first met that version of Yuuri, if he had stayed unaware to the beauty hidden underneath.

 

He had asked for Yuuri’s help then to improve his own skating. Viktor was already one of the best hockey players, both in the NHL and in his very own country’s KHL, having even won the Hart Memorial Trophy twice in his brief NHL stint, but Viktor didn’t get to where he was by being satisfied with just being one of the best. His speed, his skill with the puck, and his general hockey ability were not just because of natural talent, but more of a result of hardwork and endless practice.

 

Yuuri had promised to get back to him about it, claiming that he didn’t think he’d be able to really help Viktor out, but Yuuri had always had a problem with saying no. Viktor was surprised when the next day, Yuuri had come fully prepared with drills to improve his skating and suggestions on how to adjust his blades for better speed. He’d admit it now, Viktor was surprised at how much help it actually was. Everything was easier, from speeding past the other players, to maneuvering the puck with his stick. (Maybe in another world, he would have been a figure skater too.)

 

And the best thing was that with Viktor’s own success on the ice, Yuuri’s own confidence grew. Viktor had dropped his cool, media-worthy persona, and Yuuri’s own defensive wall of ice had thawed in response.

 

“Katsuki, get ready.”

 

They stood and Viktor gave Yuuri one last, parting hug. Yuuri took in a deep breath, his hands clenched at the front of Viktor’s jacket before he pulled away. His expression was calm and collected, closed off even, but Viktor could see the emotions warring just underneath. The cheers for the previous skater were defeaning, but Viktor didn’t dare look away from him.

 

“Watch me,” Yuuri said quietly and Viktor nodded. He may not understand the difference between a loop and a flip, or one spin from another, but Viktor understood how much this meant to Yuuri. He has always worn his country’s flag with pride, unlike Viktor who had taken his chances in America, but this time was different. It was different for everyone. This wasn’t just the Grand Prix, or World’s or regionals or nationals. This was bigger, and may as well be Yuuri’s last chance to win gold for Japan.

 

“Always,” he promised, and Yuuri pulled away. He handed his skate guards to Viktor underneath the amused eyes of his coach, and skated out into rink. The audience cheered. This was the culmination of months of practice. Viktor had seen him cry, had seen his feet bleed, and had seen Yuuri pick himself up fall after fall to dance and skate once more.

 

He has always seen Yuuri as beautiful.

 

All he could hope for now was that everyone else would see it too.

 

“Representing Japan, Katsuki Yuuri!”

 

The music started. Yuuri moved. It was then that Viktor knew that there was nothing to worry about.

 

People had claimed that Yuuri was too soft and too gentle, and that his routines were safe and comfortable, but Yuuri had learned from him too. Viktor had playfully taught him how to check, how to get rid of his hesitation and just go for his goal, and somehow, this showed. Yuuri was strength in grace, fiercely beautiful. His jumps were akin to an exuberant celly, his strides as powerful as a center skating towards the goal with the confidence that nothing would stop him.

 

Later, people will know about their story. The figure skater who had taught the hockey people how to skate better and faster, elegantly powerful, and the hockey player that had taught the figure skater how to be powerfully elegant, fiercely handsome, and unapologetically aggressive.

 

The Olympics was all about stories. Maybe in the span of things Yuuri and Viktor’s wouldn’t be that impressive, but it was theirs and that was what mattered. They had lived and breathed the ice for so long that it had become a part of them, and the only one who could breathe life back into them was someone part ice too. Hockey and figure skating were infinitely different, but so were Viktor and Yuuri.

 

This was what Viktor thought about as Yuuri finished his routine to thunderous applause. This was what he thought about as Yuuri skated to the gate of the rink, flushed and sweaty with disbelief and pride. He didn’t think, didn’t even care about everything that separated them, whether the flag they bore, or the difference in their skates, or even the few feet that remained in between them.

 

He jumped, and their lips met.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! these are drabbles for my yoichasinggoldzine AU! check them out on [tumblr](https://yoichasinggoldzine.tumblr.com). Please support the zine!!! All the WIPs I've seen so far from the artist and writers have been amazing.
> 
> check me out on [tumblr](https://gia-comeatme.tumblr.com) also


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